


Another Life

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can’t sit on a park bench and wait for life to happen. Sometimes you have to be the one to chase it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is set post-Journey’s End/The End of Time. I’m new to writing for these characters and I really, really hope I managed to capture their voices in a believable way. Please let me know what you think!

Donna knew—just _knew_ \--that she was only seconds away from howling at the wind. It was merciless, unnecessarily harsh for such a brilliantly sunny day. As she began to wish that she had just stayed home, she dismissed the thought immediately: gale force wind seemed a fair trade when the alternative was listening to her mother having a whinge about the neighbor’s “tarty” behavior with the postman. 

She scanned the park around her, watching the children scattered mirthfully about the playground while their mums and dads and nannies looked on lovingly. She wondered for a moment if she’d ever be one of them with a child of her own and frowned—it wasn’t bloody likely now that she was single _again._ There was something though, a hazy tickling feeling in the back of her mind that she couldn’t quite place. She’d been having moments like that a lot lately—like déjà vu without being able to conjure up the memory. Perhaps that was the cause of rankling mood she’d been in. 

Hugging the collar of her purple wool jacket up around her face, Donna sought out a free bench. They were all taken (of course they would be, since she actually wanted to sit down), and she chose the only bench upon which a woman sat who seemed inattentive to the children. It seemed a safe choice; if she was lucky, she’d avoid any sort of motherly chatter from bored housewives looking to pass the afternoon talking to other bored housewives. She was rarely lucky (despite her granddad’s adamant words to the contrary). 

Donna sat down, heaving a woeful sigh that was muted by a gust of wind. She felt…a bit off. She couldn’t put her finger on why she felt so out of sorts and only knew that she _did_ , and that the headache creeping around the edges of her mind would eventually erupt into a full-blown migraine. She felt prickly and irritable and so she had walked, hoping the fresh air would clear her head. 

It didn’t. 

Instead, she was miserable for no good reason. Well, there was being newly dumped by her fiancé. There was dissatisfaction at work and at home. It was all the same: one day bled into the next, painting a bleak portrait of her lackluster life in blacks and grays, the color lost beneath.

She noticed movement in the corner of her eye and stole a glance at the woman who shared her bench. Her riotous blonde curls blew haphazardly about her face while she scribbled in a blue journal. There was a picture in the corner of the page, all sorts of connecting circles and dots. 

Donna’s head hurt and she looked away. 

This woman, a complete stranger, was close enough to touch, close enough that Donna could smell her perfume. She wondered what it was like to _be_ this woman. Was she happy? Was she in love? Was she satisfied? Did she see her life in color? Donna wished she could be in her shoes (a rather scandalous pair of killer red heels—not very practical for a park) for just a moment to know what it would be like to be a woman sitting in complete contentment on a park bench with her diary rather than an aging temp who was feeling sorry for herself.

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Donna refocused her attention ahead of her, where two children were rolling a ball between them, running to catch it when the wind diverted its path. She knew she was in a sorry state, but when wasn’t she? 

She needed a change. Or a vacation. Or a boy toy. Or a drug habit. 

A sudden whoosh of air lifted the ball from its patch of grass, hurling it in Donna’s direction. Her eyes widened as it neared her face, her shock freezing her arms from assuming a defensive posture. Before it hit her, a hand snatched the ball from its course. 

Donna blinked. It had all happened so quickly that she could do nothing more than gape at her feeble lack of reflexes and her gratitude that the confident stranger had protected her from the sting of rubber slapping her in the face. 

The two children ran over and the blonde woman held out the ball, smirking at them as they plucked it from her fingers and resumed their play. 

“Thanks,” Donna said, openly sizing up the other woman. Her finger marked the page of her journal, which she had closed and tucked between her legs, while her eyes returned Donna’s once over. There was a twinkle in her gaze, a shimmer of something—not familiar, but curious and knowing—something that made Donna feel unsettled. 

The woman nodded, smiled, and returned to her journal. 

The ginger-haired woman slumped a little against the bench, burrowing her face in her jacket. She’d forgotten her scarf of course, so the chill snuck its way down her neck and into her blouse, forcing a shiver. 

She should have stayed home. At that rate, she shouldn’t have bothered getting out of bed to begin with. What was the point of it all? Wasn’t there more to life other than just…existing? Her head ached at the thought. 

She considered the woman beside her again, whose too-pretty face was plastered with a mischievous smirk while she scrawled her looping script across the pages. Donna couldn’t remember if there was ever a time she enjoyed something as simple (or boring) as writing. It would take someone _really_ happy to be clearly enjoying such a mundane pastime--or someone too thick to care one way or the other. Judging from the delight in the other woman’s eyes, Donna could tell that she was truly happy. 

Rolling her eyes again, Donna focused her gaze once more on the playing children. What good would it do to skulk about envying a complete stranger like a total nutter? She was better off just accepting that her humdrum life was the only one she had—whether she liked it or not. 

The playing children let out peels of shrill, joyful laughter. The boy and girl took turns handing the ball to each other, trying not to drop it as they quickened their pace. When the girl dropped the ball (on purpose, Donna suspected, to let the boy win), the boy pumped his fists into the air. As he celebrated his victory, the girl threw her arms around the boy’s waist and shouted, “We’re gonna be best mates _forever!_ ”

Donna snorted loudly. “Ha! Forever! What a laugh!”

The woman beside her closed her journal, twisting her body to face Donna. “I love a good joke,” the woman said, her curls swaying hypnotically in the breeze, “but I believe I missed the punchline.” 

“The two of them, talking about being friends forever—they’re in for a rude awakening. There’s no such thing as forever.”

“Bit of a cynic I see.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Donna asked hotly. “All I’m saying is—it’ll be a disappointing day for them when they realize forever doesn’t last. Little Bobby there will probably ditch his _best friend forever_ for a shiny new toy truck, and little Susie’ll be heartbroken.” 

“They’re seven,” mused the blonde wryly. “They’ll recover.”

“Maybe it’s better that it happens young—like when they learn there’s no Santa. Save ‘em the disappointment when they’re older.”

The woman perched her arm along the back of the bench, carefully considering Donna’s vehemence. “Who spoiled it for you?” 

“What?” 

“It sounds to me like you’re speaking from experience. Someone promised you ‘forever’ and broke that promise, didn’t they?” Her eyes glimmered in the sunlight, burning with curiosity. “Was it a man?”

Donna bristled at the stranger’s frankness. Her head was beginning to pound. She felt the anger that she clung to as a protective shroud begin to lessen to a dull ache. She couldn’t explain why. “I don’t think…no, not specifically. Or maybe they did—I don’t know. I just think words like that set you up for failure. They set standards you never manage to reach.” She looked at the children, who were playing tag. “Why promise someone ‘forever’ where there’s almost always an expiration date?” Her lips formed a frown. “It just…doesn’t last, does it?”

The woman nodded knowingly. “So it _was_ a man then.” 

Donna chuckled because she didn’t know what else to do. “It’s everything. I’ve just chucked my fiancé. Not a good guy in the end. Story of my life.” She gave a half smile. “Sorry—you must think I’m completely mad, telling a total stranger about my boring life.” 

“Not at all. I know what it’s like to be disappointed when promises aren’t kept, but we can’t hinge our lives on the promises of other people, can we? The universe is too unpredictable for that sort of thing.” 

“So what are you saying then?” 

“You’ve had bad relationships and you’re unhappy with the way things are. That’s not all that life is. You can’t sit on a park bench and wait for life to happen. Sometimes _you_ have to be the one to chase it.” 

“What are you, some sort of motivational speaker? Life coach extraordinaire?” 

The woman smiled, slipping her blue diary into the pocket of her leather trench. “Just a woman who’s lived enough lives to know when someone else is neglecting her own. Take it from me: you don’t want to spend your time waiting for something to happen. She stood then, her glorious curls momentarily swept away from her face to afford Donna an unobstructed view of the woman’s beauty. “Have some fire, Donna Noble.” 

“How do you know my name?” Donna furrowed her brow. “Have we met before?” 

“In another life, perhaps.” The woman winked and headed off down the path. 

Many things occurred to Donna as she sat alone on that park bench, the ache in her head mercifully beginning to subside. Maybe she wasn’t the only madwoman wandering in the park. Maybe this mysterious stranger saw something in her that she didn’t. Maybe that feeling inside, the one that always niggled the back of her mind yet remained unreachable, was the fiery, repressed version of herself that wanted its chance to thrive. 

She didn’t know how she was going to manage it, but she was certain that her life was going to change. She wondered if the woman _was_ some sort of self-help guru, perhaps with a line of books on how to maintain perfect hair while straightening out life’s various messes. It was too bad that she had never gotten her name.

Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to start her brand new life changes with a new pair of shoes, Donna headed toward the shops, humming a familiar melody as she walked.

\---


End file.
